


vanilla

by spiritscript



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Bad Sex, Bondage, Breathplay, Established Relationship, M/M, Off Screen Negotiation, other sexy things, so mentions of:, they attempt bdsm, wholesome ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:29:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28917612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiritscript/pseuds/spiritscript
Summary: Kiyoomi squints and purses his lips. He doesn’t want to offend his boyfriend but what the fuck is he talking about?“I mean,” Atsumu whines, dragging out the word, “is our relationship...Vanilla?”Sometimes, 'spicy' isn't for everyone—especially in the bedroom.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 68
Kudos: 296





	vanilla

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lunarins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunarins/gifts).



> Happy birthday Hannah!! The Bad Sex fic I did not intend to write. 
> 
> This came about because Hannah and I realised I technically owe her pwp but... I do not really do pwp and so made a joke about having sakuatsu badly attempt spicy sex and then well... this happened.
> 
> Also, while not done explicitly, negotiation for their safety and enjoyment is implied to be done off-screen, but they should probably have done more research in general

It was prompted by something innocent enough. Well, not innocent in that sense but innocent in a childish curiosity type way. Okay, maybe not childish curiosity because children most certainly should not be curious about such a thing. 

All right, it was prompted by mere intrigue—yeah, that covers all bases.

“Kiyoomi—” Atsumu starts, in a voice Kiyoomi doesn’t recognise, but he does notice the use of his full name and not a nickname, which is usually reserved for only the most serious of situations. Kiyoomi stops in the doorway of the kitchen where Atsumu is sitting on the counter eating peanut butter from the jar. He looks up and his eyes are wide, his mouth slightly ajar when he asks in wonder, “Kiyoomi, are we… are we boring?”

Not the question Kiyoomi was expecting, but he’s been asked far stranger things in far more interesting circumstances, so he opts on raising an eyebrow and placing the tote bags of groceries on the counter beside Atsumu.

“We’re professional sports stars, we played in the Olympics, I’d hardly call us _boring_ ,” he answers dryly and begins to pull out his reusable fruit bag full of mushrooms. Dutifully, Atsumu hops off the counter, spoon still in mouth, and begins to help.

“No I mean,” Atsumu waves a hand in circular motions as he puts butter in the fridge, “ _us_ , as in you and me.”

Kiyoomi squints and purses his lips. He doesn’t want to offend his boyfriend but what the fuck is he talking about?

“I mean,” Atsumu whines, dragging out the word, “is our relationship... _Vanilla?_ ”

“Vanilla?”

“Vanilla.”

Kiyoomi stops folding his bag and looks at him properly. “I don’t… understand. Is there something wrong with vanilla? It’s a popular flavour.” Then he remembers something and, “Do you think our relationship is boring?”

Atsumu flails, and stutters, and almost chokes on the damn spoon. When he begins coughing, Kiyoomi fills a glass of water and hands it to him, before patting him on the back.

“N-n-no, Omi I—,” he goes back to the counter and picks up his phone, places the now empty glass on the countertop a little too hard, taps the phone screen a few times, and then shoves it in Kiyoomi’s face, “the internet says our sex life is boring.”

Kiyoomi blinks a few times, processing Atsumu’s words, processing the words on the screen.

“Atsumu,” he says slowly and takes the phone and puts it down again, “what has Suna Rintarou done that has you believing everything on the internet?”

x

Kiyoomi eyes the cuffs warily, squishing the soft, velvety fabric curiously. 

“Atsumu…” he says while lifting them up to the light as if that’s going to unveil some secret inscription that may hint how they’re supposed to work, “this… seems like a lot.”

Atsumu turns around and looks at him holding up the hog-tie cuffs. “They looked cool.”

“Atsumu, how is anyone meant to move—,” he stops and squints, “are you trying to be lazy? You’re such a fucking pillow princess sometimes.”

“Am not, Omi-kun!”

“Then explain these!”

“I panicked and the lady was trying to be nice and help and I was too scared to put them back!”

Kiyoomi sighs and lets them fall to the bed.

“Okay,” he says after a moment, “I’m going to read the instructions _again_ , then we will do a trial run before anything else to make sure they’re safe.”

Atsumu beams at him and climbs onto the bed, sitting on his hunkers and smiling at Kiyoomi who sighs and reads the box that proves to be very unhelpful as to what is supposed to be done when the other person is tied up. He finds it hard to say no to Atsumu though, and so resigns himself to slowly and carefully beginning the bondage process starting with his ankles.

“Is this okay?” He finds himself asking for the seventh time while only on the third limb.

“Yes Omi-kun, I’ll use the safe word if it’s not.”

“Do you remember the safe word?” Kiyoomi asks, tightening the restraint and picking up his left arm.

“Of course, it’s calculus!” Atsumu says proudly, as Kiyoomi secures the last strap and then readjusts it.

Stepping back he looks at Atsumu, who really does look like a roasted hog without the apple in his mouth. Maybe they should have started with a gag, he thinks vaguely.

“How do you feel?” Kiyoomi asks.

Atsumu wiggles a little and then scrunches his nose.

“My nose is itchy,” he says, and before Kiyoomi can respond, he’s pulled out one of his hands and begun scratching his nose, and then he returns his hand and looks up gleefully. “All good Omi-kun.”

“Atsumu… I don’t think this isn’t going to work.”

x

Kiyoomi felt bad after that, at least for the first hour or so. Atsumu had seemed crestfallen at first, but finally conceded that yes, hog-ties were a bit much. Especially when neither had a clue what they were doing _and_ they couldn’t even tie him properly.

So Kiyoomi decided to try and surprise him. This is why he’s currently sitting on their leather couch in a man thong and a silk dressing gown—that’s not really silk because silk robes are expensive and Kiyoomi is a responsible adult—because the internet said _‘surprising your significant other is a great way to spice things up!’_

All Kiyoomi can think about though, is how fucking cold it is and how uncomfortable and itchy lace is when it’s up his ass crack. And he thought Atsumu would be the most annoying thing he could ever possibly have up there. 

It’ll be worth it though—nothing crazy, just spontaneous sex in their bed because anywhere else is unsanitary. Maybe the couch if they lay down a towel.

His head snaps up at the sound of the lock scraping and the door opening.

“Living room!” He shouts before Atsumu says anything, feeling a little giddy actually despite it all—maybe this wasn’t a bad idea after all. He throws open the robe and angles himself as seductively as possible towards the door.

“Hey Omi-kun,” Atsumu says coming through the door, “I thought it would be nice to—”

He trails off and looks Kiyoomi up and down.

“Have ‘Samu and Sunarin over… for dinner...” he finishes weakly and trails off as, sure enough, his brother and his brother’s boyfriend appear in the doorway behind him. 

There’s a very long moment where all four of them kind of just stop, not really sure what to do or how to do it. Then slowly, Rintarou raises his hand to cover Osamu’s eyes. Kiyoomi swears his whole body turns red in embarrassment as he fumbles to cover himself up as much as possible with the short robe.

“We should go,” Rintarou says, a hand now over his own eyes too.

“No-no it’s fine,” Atsumu laughs awkwardly, also beet red, “isn’t it Omi-kun?”

Kiyoomi glares at him.

“Better yet, how about we go grab dinner and leave Omi-kun here.”

Kiyoomi screams into a pillow for a solid ten minutes when they leave.

x

It takes a while before they attempt to even broach the subject of trying something new again. It’s Kiyoomi that approaches the subject as they’re sitting on the couch, Atsumu laying between his legs against his chest, a blanket wrapped around both of them

“How about,” Kiyoomi starts, not taking his eyes off the quiz show on the screen, “we do some Googling, and decide what to try next. Together.”

Atsumu shifts his whole body to look up at him.

“That’s… we probably should have started with that.”

“Yeah. Probably.”

It had started fine, going through the list of plausible options with what they already had in the apartment to decide on what to try. So everything that required _equipment_ (including the hog-ties rotting beneath the bed) was ruled out. Then everything with bodily fluids other than the regular kind was ruled out. Knives were also ruled out because that’s just dangerous and Atsumu said he definitely wouldn’t be able to look Osamu in the eye if they used the fancy knife set he bought them for sex—and things were already awkward enough with his brother after the last… incident. 

So they decided on breathplay. There is just one issue though.

“Omi, I… I feel bad...” Atsumu says, stradling Kiyoomi, his hand gripping Kiyoomi’s shoulder and _not_ his neck like he should be.

“Atsumu, I swear to fuck, please put your hand on my goddamn throat.”

“What if I hurt you?”

“I tap out, remember?”

They’re not even naked, and at this point, Kiyoomi doesn’t even feel like he wants to take off his underwear anymore.

It had been going well, good even, when they began kissing and heavily petting and eventually stumbled into the bedroom, shirts were pulled off and trousers were taken off messily, then they lay on the bed and Atsumu straddled him and his hand moved to Kiyoomi’s neck and now, well, now they’re getting nowhere.

Kiyoomi sighs, defeated. “Wanna just order take out?”

“Yes,” Atsumu says, nodding and pulling his hand back as if it was burned, “I want ramen.”

x

“Okay,” Atsumu says out of nowhere and stands straight up. Kiyoomi just looks at him over his book, and arches an eyebrow. Atsumu clears his throat and walks over slowly, before climbing onto Kiyoomi’s lap and taking his face in his hands. “You’re such a dirty slut, aint’cha?”

It takes a moment.

“Atsumu, what the fuck?”

He pauses, “you’re so…” he trails off at the look on Kiyoomi’s face.

“Are you… trying…”

“Dirty talk. Yes.”

“Let’s not.”

He nods, “thank god ‘cause that’s all I got.”

x

“What about shower sex?”

“What?”

“You know… sex in the shower.”

“Water is an awful lubricant.”

“Yeah.”

“We can try? If you want.”

“...No. Actually, we might slip. Can’t risk injury.”

“Yeah.”

x

They sit on the edge of the bed, a small jar of coconut oil and aloe vera gel on the locker beside a lit candle.

“Are you… sure this is safe?”

Yes, Kiyoomi is sure. The humiliation is still fresh in his mind from when he’d gone to pick up his favourite facial oil this morning, and stopped by the candles on his way to the till when he had what he’d thought was a brilliant idea, and picked one of them up.

The sales assistant had beamed at him and asked if he had a points card when he blurted, _‘is this safe if it gets on skin?’_

The girl blinked up at him, still smiling and said, _‘it should, be. It’s made with soy, natural fragrances, and zero colourants, but I’ll grab a supervisor to double check—she’ll know more than me.’_

He went to protest but she was already trotting away. He hated himself. The supervisor came and confirmed that if it, _‘happens to get on your skin, it shouldn't cause any problems except in the cases of very sensitive allergies!’_

Nodding he tapped his phone against the pin pad and left as quickly as possible.

Then he researched all about wax play and decided yes, using oil as a base would be a good idea, and yes, aloe vera gel nearby, along with a basin of lukewarm water on the floor, would also be a good idea.

Atsumu picks up the lemongrass candle that’s been burning for about an hour now, and swirls the wax around gently before looking at Kiyoomi with wide eyes.

“Omi-kun, I love you, you know I do. But like fuck am I letting you put this anywhere near me.”

Kiyoomi nods. “Yeah, understandable.”

x

“Public sex?”

“... it’s the middle of January.”

“Is that… is that your only reservation?”

“No. But it’s in there.”

“Yeah, I kinda just said that to get your reaction.”

“Then I think that’s a terrible idea. I don’t understand it, what is the appeal, what if people get caught? And where would you even do it? On the grass? On the gravel? On sand? There are public indecency laws—”

x

Atsumu is bent over Kiyoomi’s knee who’s hand is carefully and meticulously kneading his ass, his phone open beside him with a diagram of the best and safest places to spank, as well as all the places not to. He’s making sure to be thorough, but is beginning to wonder if he’s taking too long with the prep. 

“Who’s a naughty boy?” It’s out of Kiyoomi’s mouth before he realises and he could cry because he did not want to ask that, ever.

Atsumu’s face shoots up.

“What? I… I didn’t do anything I swear—”

“No I— I’m trying to set the mood,” Kiyoomi answers quickly and Atsumu bites his lip, lets out a little ‘oh’, and looks down again.

Okay, now or never. Kiyoomi lifts his hand and goes to swing softly. Then stops, sets up again because he was probably being _too soft_. _There should be some pain,_ the articles read. Then he swings down with a crack and Atsumu _howls._

“Oowwww, Omi-kun,” he whines, his head shooting up and turning to look at him again, “that hurt.”

“It’s meant to hurt.”

“I don’t like it,” he’s pouting, large eyes drooping. Even though all of this is because _he_ wanted to try ‘spice’ things up.

Truthfully, it’s all starting to stress Kiyoomi out.

“This was all your idea, Miya.”

His frown deepens. “Are you angry, Omi-Omi?”

“No, I’m not.”

“But you called me Miya. You never call me Miya unless you’re angry.” He has a point. 

“‘Tsumu,” he says slowly, “I’m not mad.”

“You look mad.”

He sighs again and goes to answer when Atsumu interrupts him.

“Wanna just cuddle?”

Kiyoomi nods, he would really like to cuddle and _not hit_ his boyfriend’s behind.

“Yeah. Please.”

x

Kiyoomi can’t help but stare at the black latex mask in front of him and wonder how it works. He’s not judging, not in the least, but he really can’t quite understand how wearing a latex mask with a ball gag could help get one in the mood. He imagines it would feel claustrophobic. 

They decided maybe they should visit a fetish store, that maybe that would give them some ideas. Right now, Atsumu is standing beside him, nipple clamps in his hands, staring at the exact same thing.

“I don’t get it,” he whispers, not looking at Kiyoomi, keeping his eyes fixed on the gimp mask. “I just… don’t get it.”

“If we get nipple clamps, I’m not wearing them.”

“No I—look,” he says and starts opening and closing them, then looks up at Kiyoomi, “they look painful!”

“Once again,” Kiyoomi says looking at them and trying not to think about how he’s seen a lot that seems far more painful in this store, “I think that’s the point.”

x

Kiyoomi has never been a liar. Except when Motoya is involved, but he hardly counts Motoya as a person, more a weasel. So Kiyoomi is not lying when he says he’s remarkably, absolutely, utterly, and completely sexually frustrated. He and Atsumu haven’t had sex in over a month—which he knows is normal, people don’t need to be actively humping each other’s legs for a relationship to be stable and healthy, but he would be lying if he said he does not want to hump or be humped by Atsumu as soon as possible.

The worst part about all of this is that, while he is sure there was nothing wrong with their sex life before, he has somehow found himself spiralling down the rabbit hole of _‘rice purity tests’_ and _‘how kinky are you?’_ quizzes, and maybe he too is worried that up until now, they have been _vanilla._

“Omi?” Atsumu calls, he’s home early from dinner with his brother. The brother Kiyoomi still can’t look in the eye.

“In here,” he calls back, closing his phone where yet another quiz tells him what he already knows.

Atsumu has a serious look on his face when he enters the room and marches to Kiyoomi, sitting on the coffee table opposite him, an Onigiri Miya bag still in his hand.

Kiyoomi goes to ask him a question, but Atsumu beats him to it.

“So I was talking to ‘Samu and—”

“Atsumu,” Kiyoomi cuts him off, “you were not talking to your brother about our sex life after…” he trails off.

Shaking his head, Atsumu answers. “No—well, I mean I tried and then he told me he didn’t want to hear about it.”

Kiyoomi goes to reply, but Atsumu holds up his hand to stop him.

“Which I understand ‘cause I don’t wanna hear about him and Sunarin, but he did help. In a way. I just... I told him I was worried about,” he waves a finger between them.

“And?”

“And he said it looked like we weren’t having problems—” he laughs a little and Kiyoomi scowls at him. “It was then that I realised something and I know you said this right at the beginning but—it doesn’t matter. _It doesn’t matter._ ”

Kiyoomi waits for him to continue, but Atsumu just sits there as if _he_ is expecting something for another five seconds before realising Kiyoomi is waiting for _him_ to say more.

“I _mean_ , we had a good sex life. We enjoyed it. We had _fun_. And we love each other and care for each other, so what we do in the bedroom or how we do it doesn’t matter. This is our relationship—ours. And I love you so much, Sakusa Kiyoomi. So much that boring, vanilla sex with you is the most incredible thing that I could ever have because I get to do it with you.”

Kiyoomi just blinks and feels nothing but adoration swell up in him for the idiot sitting in front of him because he just loves him so much. So much that he wants nothing more than to kiss him until their lips are puffy like some horny teenagers, and then fall together and show him how much he loves him in their own, _vanilla_ , way.

“Besides, I’m not gonna lie, this kinky stuff scares me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to ion and regan for beta reading and especially ion for saying that she would not stop me from writing this when I asked her to... or maybe not
> 
> my[twitter](https://twitter.com/ohmiyamy)


End file.
